


The Good Die Young

by waterfallliam



Category: Proxy Series - Alex London
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfallliam/pseuds/waterfallliam
Summary: “We don’t have time for this,” Marie said, standing over them, her shadow obscuring half of Egan’s face.“You won’t leave without me, and I’m not leaving without him,” Syd spat.





	The Good Die Young

“So… what do we do now?” asked Knox, his eyes flickering between them before finally settling on Syd. Knox looked lost, somehow less and more of himself since Syd had first met him. It was obvious there was some story there, more than the crash or his own self pity—

“The crash,” Syd mumbled, almost falling over his own feet as he rushed towards the bandits again. “You check the guys we tied up—look for a medkit, anything medical, any kind of patch—”

Data. Data was in the blood. Any kid who grew up in the Valve knew that data didn’t die with a person: it slowly disintegrated, like the body did. An injured body could be mended if you had the right equipment, the right patches. Like they did in Mountain City. Like these bandits might possibly do.

“What for?” Knox asked, already obeying. Syd didn’t have time for questions. He knelt beside the woman–the woman he had killed a minute ago—and searched her pockets. When his hand brushed against skin it felt wrong. He knew he would be seeing her face for the rest of his life, but instead of where he should feel guilt or remorse, there was only a strange emptiness; a place his body had gone hard.

 _All debts have to be repaid,_ Syd thought. Egan had already sacrificed his life for Syd. Twice, in fact. The least Syd could do was try to save him.

“I found a sunburn patch,” Marie called, hurrying over.

What good was that going to do when Egan’s chest was more pockmarked than any old wall in the Valve? He looked at Egan’s body, uncharacteristically still as it lay in the sand. His eyes followed the sharp lines of Egan’s face. They had been made sharper by his attitude, as if Syd would cut himself, if he ever touched. The contrast with the softness of his lips was stark, a fact Egan had loved to play up for a more dramatic appearance. Syd had been wrong to call Egan’s eyes vacant when he had been off his head.

“Knox, if you had a datastream, could you hack this patch?” Syd asked, reaching forward carefully with both hands to remove the contacts from Egan’s eyes.

“You know I can,” Knox said, but with none of his usual charm or bite.

“Could you repurpose it to fix more than upper layer of his skin?” Syd swallowed around the words, as if now that they had left his mouth, all the hope they held would flee across the desert, disappearing like water into cracked soil.

“I’m known for rising to the occasion,” Know said, the words empty. If Knox had not been such a self-obsessed rich kid searching for his next distraction, he could probably have torn the Mountain City down a hundred different ways. Too bad for the Rebooters that Knox sneered at words like potential or revolution.

“Come here,” Syd said quietly, motioning with his head for Knox to join him on the ground.

“We don’t have time for this,” Marie said, standing over them, her shadow obscuring half of Egan’s face.

“You won’t leave without me, and I’m not leaving without him,” Syd spat. The corpse a few feet away from him spoke for itself.

Knox’s skin was dry under Syd’s fingers as he held first the left, then Knox’s right eye open to put Egan’s contacts in. He didn’t miss the way Knox’s lips parted, or the slight, ever so perfectly imperfect dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

“Go on then. Show me what you can do, pretty boy.” Egan’s words felt heavy on his tongue, but appropriate.

“What is one life for the lives of many?” Marie pleaded, her hands bunching in her dusty shirt.

“Egan didn’t believe in all that debt forgiveness nonsense. He shouldn’t die because someone somewhere decided I’m special all of a sudden.” No one else should die because of Syd.

Egan had never seen Syd as special: it was coincidence that had brought them together. A stroke of luck. Syd wondered if Egan would consider that luck good or bad.

“He doesn’t have to believe. Your blood—”

“I can’t do this if I can’t concentrate,” Knox interrupted. His eyes were flicking back and forth so fast they had to hurt. He held the silver patch in his hand, the small scrap of backend technology that just might give Egan back to Syd. The data in their blood was worse than a prison sentence, but right now it might just be Egan’s savior, too.

The minutes dragged on as Syd clutched the fabric of Egan’s jumpsuit. He had just wanted to go to a party with Syd. Do something fun instead of another of his doomed schemes. Syd hadn't had the chance to ask him why he was so insistent about it, always so insistent on finding someone for Syd while he actively avoided such personal connection.

Syd focused, only to realize he was staring at the patch on Egan’s suit. Autorepair, just like Syd’s but without a name or the rainbow. Uncharacteristically bland for Egan. The cars, all that retro tech, why had it mattered so much? Egan had never tried to convince him to bury himself in debt and live like he did, and Syd had never judged him for how he coped with hack jobs and drugs.

Was trying to find Syd someone a way of coping for Egan—some kind of sick insurance for when he inevitably wound up dead? Syd’s mind raced as reality spiraled further and further away from him. Was the party an excuse to be close to him again, to stop them drifting apart? Was the retro mechanical junk a gimmick Egan had chosen just for him?

“This is as good as I can get it,” Knox said. Blinking, he held the patch to Syd so he could be the one to press it against the skin of Egan’s neck, still warm and soft.

The patch dissolved into his skin, until even the faint circuitry had merged with Egan. This was Syd’s shot in the dark, his chance in a million for a miracle. Maybe he shouldn't tempt fate when his own life was already on the line, his survival up until this point already improbable enough. But Syd did not believe in fate, or destiny. He believed in keeping his head down and making it through to live another day. Syd wanted to live; he wanted a life that was his own.

“The good die young,” Marie said, resting a hand on Syd’s shoulder before standing.

“All the more reason for him to live,” Syd replied harshly. Egan had not been good by any number of definitions, but the cruel curl of his lip had always been soft for Syd, his hands not clenched into fists but open, ready to help him stand.

There was no poetry to his death, not that he would have wanted any. But to die without even a whimper, that wasn't Egan’s style at all. He should have at least gone out fighting against who was killing him. Egan’s schemes had never actually landed him anywhere better, but Syd liked that he had a dream, some place he wanted to reach. Syd could not see past 18, past the life shackled in debt. Letting himself was dangerous.

“E,” Syd muttered, leaning over Egan as the skin of his chest knotted itself back together again. A few small specks of metal fell away, but more stayed embedded in the fresh, pink flesh. The roots of his hair were turning white—no, his hair was growing that strange shade of platinum. Egan was going to hate how he looked. “E come on.”

Suddenly, an elbow pushed Syd out of the way. Knox brought his hands down to against Egan’s brand new chest, his fingers twined together, and pushed. Then again, and again

“His heart needs to start beating again,” Knox explained, moving his hands up and down. “Otherwise his blood won’t pump on its own.”

His body needs oxygen, Syd thought, grateful for his ability to absorb knowledge like a sponge. There was only one logical choice.

Syd cupped Egan’s cheeks with his hands, just like he had in so many daydreams he did not let himself indulge in. He shifted them to ease Egan’s mouth open with his thumbs, before carefully slotting their lips together. He was too focused on breathing for Egan to appreciate the fact that he was finally, _finally,_ kissing his best friend. He had to be Egan’s lungs for him now, and Knox had to be his heart. Really, they were poor replacements.

Syd rose to take a deep breath and then dove back down again, counting off the seconds in his head. It was like how he imagined prayer to be.

Egan’s cough was dirty and harsh as it filled the cave, but Syd wouldn’t have it any other way. He leaned back on his heels, his heart ready to explode.

It took a minute, but Egan pushed himself up on an elbow, turning towards Syd. He looked awful, but very much alive. His eyes were clear as they bored into Syd’s. “Guess I’m too pretty to let me die, eh?”

Syd ignored the comment in favor of hauling Egan into his arms, his hands slotting over his shoulder blades, and pressing his nose against the collar of Egan’s jumpsuit.

“Hey, hey, easy princess,” Egan half laughed.

“I can’t afford to lose you,” Syd said, the quiet words meant for Egan, and Egan alone.

“You got me.” He let Syd cling to him. Why Egan had chosen him out of all people to stick to was beyond Syd. That he had chosen him was something Syd was grateful for. Most joys in his life, he realized, he had Egan to thank for. Growing up in the Valve, finding someone you could trust was damn near impossible.

“Not to break up this happy reunion, but we are on the run. We need to take the horses and head to Old Detroit,” Marie said. She cut an imposing figure with the retro weapon slung over her shoulder.

“Right,” Syd said, ignoring the heat in his cheeks as let Egan go. “We need to head to the Interstate on the other side of the canyon. People say it’s the best route.”

Egan glared at Knox as he stood, but didn’t make a move to continue their tussle. Egan was a better fighter, they both knew that. Knox was no longer the one with all the power, not out here. Here, you had to survive by the skin of your teeth, a lesson Egan and Syd had learned all too well in the Valve. Sometimes it was hurt or get hurt. If Egan noticed the body of the dead bandit as they left the cave, he didn’t comment on it.

“How do we even know if the road is there? Or safe? You heard them talking! Flash floods, organ harvesters…” Knox said.

“You don’t have to come,” Syd said. “You can take one of these and ride it back home. You promised to get me out of the city, and you did. You get to return to your life now.”

“No,” Knox answered, his voice hard again, not vacant like it had been in the cave. “I’m not going to back to my father.”

“And why should we trust you? You just want to stick it to your father.” Egan sneered.

“We can help,” Marie said, stepping closer, the very image of courage. “And we both have a reason to—whether you like that reason or not.”

“What? You want me to believe you care about Syd more than the cause?” He said the last two words in an extra deep voice.

“Okay,” Syd said, holding up his arms to get them to stop. He ignored the look Egan shot him. “Okay, you can come. As long as we get moving.” He wasn’t responsible for them. He just wanted to survive.

They decided to take two of the horses, and let the others go. They wouldn’t move at first, but Egan grabbed the EMD stick they’d taken from the bandits and zapped them on the lowest setting, getting them to flee.

“What are you looking at?” Egan asked when he caught Knox staring. Marie frowned, but didn’t say a word as she climbed onto her horse. Knox rode with Marie, leaving Egan to ride with Syd.

“There’s no way I’m letting you go back to the city, debt or no,” Syd said. He wasn’t going let Egan die for him again. He was too tired to be authoritative or hard, too tired to be anything other than just Syd.

“There’s nothing in any contract about it being valid after death,” Egan smirked. He rubbed at his chest as he gestured for Syd to climb up first.

The feeling of riding a horse was familiar, as was that of having another person behind him. But Egan was more wiry than Knox—more bones and muscles made of ropey steel. His shoulders were broader, and as his hands snaked around Syd’s stomach, Egan didn’t clasp them together, but held onto him instead, almost like a hug.

Syd’s breath hitched as he kicked his heels into the flanks of the horse to get them moving.

“Use the sun to navigate,” he called to Marie, letting go of the reins to point upward. She nodded, then turned her head forward again, slipping into the laser focus that came with surety in belief.

“What, are you a convert now?” Egan asked, his words hot against Syd’s ear as he rested his chin on his shoulder. “Ready to live in a factory and take down the filthy system? Save everyone’s ass in some senseless self-righteous act of crazy?”

“It’s as good as any place to run,” Syd said. “There’s not much else out here in the desert. Not even you can protect me like they can.”

Egan took a minute to reply, the blistering rock around them swimming in color. “Then I’ll protect you from them, if it comes to it,” Egan decided. “Guess I will get that new life of crime after all. Do you think they have Rebooter fashion out here? They must have some kind of outfits, any good revolution should.”

Laughter bubbled out of Syd before he could stop it.

“It’s probably some boring military style trash. I guess if anyone can pull it off, I can. And I need a patch for my hair. What did you do to it?” Egan asked, shaking his head so the long strands stopped hanging in his eyes.

“We found a patch. Knox hacked it to repair your chest.” Fear clawed it’s way up Syd’s throat as he remembered. “E, you were dead.”

“Aw, swampcat, I’m touched.” Then, in an entirely serious tone that Syd hadn’t heard in years, he said, “Thank you.”

The press of Egan’s lips against his cheek was so brief, that Syd would have called it a trick of the wind if it weren’t for the warmth of Egan’s cheek against his own. It felt good. He gripped the reins and tried to deal with the impossibility of his life. Going from a nobody to social pariah, from proxy to inmate, from swampcat to debtor messiah—but it was this that crumbled all the defenses that it had taken Syd a lifetime to build around himself. His chest was a cavern, deeper than the canyon they were riding through, and he was sinking.

“Knox saved you.” Syd still couldn’t quite believe it. He hadn’t even thanked him yet, he thought, sneaking a glance at where he was riding behind Marie.

“And what, that’s good enough to make up for all the years he hurt you?”

Syd shrugged. “No. But I’m glad you’re alive.” There was no equating what Knox owed him, no repayment to balance the books, not this, not anything. There was only a forwards, a living with that knowledge.

“Yeah, me too.” Syd could feel it as Egan repositioned himself, his hair soft against Syd’s neck. It only took a minute before he heard Egan’s all too familiar snores. Syd memorized the feeling of Egan’s weight against his back, the hands around his waist. Would he ever get to touch him like this again? How long did they have?

The rode for the rest of the morning, until the sun neared its zenith. Egan was woken by the horse stopping as they pulled up to a rocky overhang.

“No point in wearing ourselves out when we can avoid the worst of the sun and make progress in the evening,” Syd explained.

As Egan looked for a way to tie their horse to the rockface, Knox cornered Syd.

“You know I’m on your side, right? Not because of your blood or to get back at my father, though that is a sweet bonus. I’m on,” Knox tapped his finger on Syd’s chest and let it linger, “your side.”

“Okay,” Syd said, feeling like a glitched Advo.

“I’m glad your friend isn’t dead, even though he clearly hates me,” Knox said, not withdrawing his hand, but stepping closer. “We’ve seen enough death.”

“Let’s hope that’s the last of it.” If one more person died for Syd, it would be too many. Egan had died, that woman at the zoo, the bandit—how many more? And for what?

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” Knox smiled, genuine for once.

“What’s this, trying to kiss and make up?” Egan butted in. “Hands off, pretty boy, he’s mine.”

Knox blushed as he withdrew his hand, mouth opening and closing like the broken claw of a trash disposal bot.

“E, he’s trying to be nice,” Syd said, too tired to mediate whatever this was again. Something flashed in the corner of his eye.

“He already has enough scars because of you. Better watch that there aren’t any more.”

Knox looked cross eyed as he watched the antique blade in front of him. The same blade Egan had killed the woman at the zoo with. It wasn’t the first time he had spilled blood for Syd. It probably wouldn’t be the last. They were bound by it, the things they would do for each other. They were bound by something thicker than blood: by choice. If there was one desperately sought after commodity in the Valve apart from money, it was the opportunity of choice.

“Here,” Marie said, diffusing the situation by thrusting a handful of pills at them.

They were the kind that adapted themselves perfectly to their recipient’s nutritional needs, no Patron eating any more or less than their body exactly required. Very lux. Syd swallowed greedily, the capsule huge as he washed it down his dry throat. Seconds later rich tastes exploded on his tongue, cooked vegetables and meat. His belly felt miraculously full.

“You patrons have it good, huh,” Egan said, interrupting himself with a burp. “No table scraps or rotten leftovers. No getting hit for stealing.”

Marie sighed. “All the more reason for the system to be torn down. Syd—his blood—”

“You don’t know the meaning of a hard life. And you, pretty boy, I bet you don’t believe in getting rid of your cushy house and lux tech and designer face. What’s this really about? You got a crush?” Egan laughed, the sound hollow and alien to Syd’s ears.

“What—no,” Knox said. “It’s not like that. Not that I’m not sure for the right guy you’re very nice to look at, but the scars? And I’m not like that…” Knox shook his head. “Without the system there’s no stability, no nothing. It’ll be anarchy. No one will have it good.”

“We can build a system where everyone has it good,” Marie said.

“That’s not how it works. Who will do the jobs no one wants? How will the market cope?”

“We already use bots for so many of our needs. We just won’t be unnecessarily rich while others die because they have nothing!”

“You’re both glitched,” Egan declared. He turned and left. Marie and Knox didn’t seem to notice his departure, too wrapped up in debating.

Syd followed Egan to the where he was sat in the shade, a little way away from the horses and the others. He had his hands clenched together, but they still shook in his white knuckled grip.

“Withdrawal?” Syd asked, squeezing himself in next to Egan. Their thighs and sides pressed against each other in the tight space, the contact hot as a flame.

They’d sat like this before, when they’d hid in the storage closet at the orphanage. One time, Syd had thought if they couldn’t find him, they wouldn’t punish him. But he’d been found and given double the EMD zaps. After, it had been Egan who had dragged him back to bed. Bony arms had held his chest as he finally slipped out of consciousness.

“Yeah, it won’t last long though. I’ll have the shakes for an hour, puke if I could, then it’ll be all over. The noise will be back, everything will be too loud again. Syntholene has the half-life of a rat.”

“Rats smell better than you,” Syd lied. The stink of the desert, coarse sand and crusty sweat was still familiar: it was Egan. It was inescapable, being so close. Syd tried to remember how long it had been since they’d been this close without one of them moving away.

“They don’t.”

Syd suppressed a smile. “You’re right, it’s more an odor of sewer.”

Egan choked out a laugh. “Take that back.”

“Aw, it’s okay. We can smell bad together.”

Syd reached without thinking and clasped Egan’s hands in one of his. They were soft, too soft for someone who lived his life of violence. Syd was tired, so tired. He ached around the letters in his arm, the dryness in his throat, the crawling exhaustion that was slowly turning his brain into sludge.

“For better or worse,” Egan said, so quietly that Syd almost didn’t catch it.

Normally Egan would brush physical contact off. If it wasn’t practical or necessary, he avoided it. Syd would never force it. Egan’s quiet gaze when he thought no one was looking spoke volumes, as did the way he’d ease his flinches into quick movements. If you had a reputation for violence no one got too close to you. Syd was the exception. He was his best friend. He was the only one who was permitted.

Egan turned his hand and slid his fingers in between Syd’s, his nails too short to have as much grime stuck beneath them as Syd’s did.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Egan asked, not letting go.

“Sell yourself to Maes for me.”

For a moment, the whistle of the wind through the canyon walls was louder than Syd’s thoughts.

“Swampcat, you’re only part of my life with any meaning. You’re the last one who deserves any of this.” That nickname was solely reserved for him, always him.

“None of us do.” No one can help that they’re born, no one inherently _deserves_.

“You’re important to me,” Egan said, tightening his grip on Syd’s hand. “I couldn’t bear it if you died. There is no Egan without Syd. But you, you’re smart, capable.”

Syd didn’t want to imagine a future without Egan. The shrapnel in Egan’s chest was proof of that. Tiny, tangible pieces of metal. The problem was imagining any future, let alone a future where they make it.

“To what end?” Syd asked.

Egan cupped his face with his free hand and leant his forehead against Syd’S, closing his eyes as he breathed in Syd’s air. He said: “You’ve never felt like your life is your own. You should.”

“How?” Syd asked, his voice cracking as he finally broke under the weight of the last few days.

Egan smirked before leaning closer and pressing their lips together. It was gentle at first, a coaxing touch into which Syd melted. He had every opportunity to pull away, Egan was taking it slow—but Syd didn’t want to. Instead, he deepened the kiss, ignoring how Egan’s cracked skin scratched. He let himself fall into sensation. The rough drag of lips, the heat of it all, the closeness, the intimacy. Syd succumbed to it.

Their noses bumped together, but Egan gently repositioned his head, and they were back at it again. What had started as slow and uncertain now simmered, years of hunger making them greedy. It was unlike any of the other kisses Syd had had. There was no pretense, no life to save. It was just the two of them. Syd and Egan. Like it always had been.

"You said I wasn't your type," Egan said, his lips moving against Syd’s.

“I lied,” Syd said, and kissed Egan again. For the first time in months, in years, Syd felt truly excited. He swiped his tongue along Egan’s lip like he’d seen people doing in a holovid once. Egan shuddered, pressing himself closer against Syd. Heat was everywhere. The air, Egan’s mouth, Egan’s touch—

Syd scooped up Egan’s legs and adjusted their position. Egan, the vicious criminal with a reputation for being ruthless, giggled and let himself be manhandled so that he was half splayed in Syd’s lap. Syd resumed kissing him sloppily, leaving a hand on his thigh. Neither of them had much technique, but the slide of their lips still felt so good. The press of Egan’s chest against his own was intoxicating. After years of being just shy of close enough to Egan, their clothes felt like flimsy barriers, their skin only another way to be closer.

In the wide, open desert, Syd didn’t need to worry about who would see them. He didn’t want to care about keeping his head down—whether he had a choice about it or not. He grabbed Egan’s ass unabashedly. Egan moaned, the sound fueling the fire in his belly. Syd kissed the corner of his mouth, then up the line of his jaw. Egan’s sparse stubble was so soft it tickled more than anything else.

They kissed for a while. At some point Egan shifted so he straddled Syd, his arms curling around Syd’s neck protectively. It was as if a dam had been sprung open: they were both soaked in desperation. They kissed some more, roughly, softly, with open mouths, with no space between them, without shame, without doubt. They kissed slowly, sweetly—stealing time and pleasure from a world that would rid them of it.

“If we make it to Old Detroit, what are we going to do?” Syd asked.

“What we’ve always done. Survive together.”

**Author's Note:**

> it's been years but i'm still ready to go hard about proxy/guardian at a moment's notice  
> hope you enjoyed reading


End file.
